


Nausea and Love Share A Lot Of Symptoms

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Big Gross Boys, Bill is going to take over the world one minor inconvenience at a time, Billdip Secret Santa 2017, Christmas Shopping, Dipper is going to take a nap, Domestic, Fluff, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Bill gets him and Dipper kicked out of every store in Gravity Falls.





	Nausea and Love Share A Lot Of Symptoms

**Author's Note:**

> For @qt-cacti! Sorry it's a _little_ off from your prompt, but I tried to stick with it as best as I could! I hope you like it and happy holidays!  <3

Bill picks himself up off the sidewalk, frowning at the new holes in his favorite, far too large yellow button up shirt. The cold air hits his exposed elbows with a sharp sting, bringing his attention to the blood beading around a few annoying scrapes on his skin. He regards the injuries with an eye roll. 

Once Bill had found himself indefinitely trapped in a human body, the initial rush of hilarity that came with pain quickly soured as he learned he had to deal with quite the bitch of an aftermath. Breaking his ankle around year one of his powerless, fleshy imprisonment had efficiently taught him his lesson on self inflicted damage. 

But that of course did nothing to stop accidents from very frequently happening; He is unfortunately less than coordinated thanks to gangly, uncooperative limbs and the company he keeps is not exactly in favor of avoiding risky situations. Because of this and his glowing personality he was more often than not under some sort of physical impairment or the other.

This time, his charm was the cause of his dripping elbows. That and the sales associate at the holiday themed shop he was charitably giving some business to not very much caring for said charm.

“And this is why I wanted you to stay home,” Pine Tree grabs Bill’s arms to quickly assess what harm had been done. Deeming it minor, he huffs and releases him, “Christmas is  _ tomorrow _ and this is the third store you’ve gotten us thrown out of with your- your-”

“Heckling,” Bill helpfully supplies, “They’re ripping us off, PT. Twenty dollars for a sphere full of paper! Even I’m not crazy enough to buy that.”

“It’s a  _ snow globe _ . We charge  _ thirty _ at the Mystery Shack,” He fails at smoothly running a hand through his tangled mane of thoroughly dry-shampooed curls, “Listen, if you can manage to not involve mentioning dead animals in your ‘ _ heckling _ ’ at the next shop, I’ll buy you a- um-”

“Kitchenaid,” Bill, ever the saint, once again provides, touching his own stiff but not properly  _ crunchy _ hair and amending, “And more gel.”

“Okay, fine,” Pine Tree easily agrees, because he is a  _ fool _ and has no clue whatsoever that this has been Bill’s master plan ever since they had started their Christmas shopping adventure.

They begin walking to the next store, Bill quiet as he revels in his victory and begins brewing up his next, possibly even more dastardly, scheme.

Pine Tree opens the door to a clothing shop, the ringing of a bell accompanying the action, “A Kitchenaid?” 

Bill rolls his shoulders in a shrug, “Infomercials are very persuasive.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he has more than a handful of brain cells, so he smartly decides against it and instead raises his crumpled list, squinting at the paper.

“Alright, we’ve got Mabel, boyfriend of the month, and Grenda done. We still have the grunkles, Candy, and Pacifica.” 

“I picked out something just fine for the ‘grunkles’ at the last store,” Bill snapped, beginning to rifle through a wrack of hideously ugly fuzzy pants and stifling the urge purchase every last pair, “Your the one who insists on joint gifts every year, but its always things _you_ want to buy! My opinion matters too, y’know?!”

Pine Tree expression takes on one of mock remorse, “You’re right. You do have opinions. And- And I would feel a lot worse about not respecting those opinions if they didn’t involve gifting my family members with gag gifts at best and acid coated wrapping paper at worst.”

“Oh, one year-”

“Grunkle Ford was  _ hospitalized-” _

“Hospitalized, shmoshpitalized, he bought me an  _ eyepatch _ -”

This goes on for a good while before Bill finds himself in the exact same position he had been in mere minutes ago, bleeding elbows on the sidewalk and best shirt looking even more wrecked than before.

“Four,” Pine Tree hisses as the door is slammed behind him by a particularly peeved manager, “ _ Four _ stores-!”

“Shut up,” Bill snaps back, jumping to his feet and brusquely dusting himself off, “Just shut up. You’re the one who wanted to wait until Christmas Eve to get all of the shopping done! You know damn well what happens when I talk to people- It’s not  _ my  _ fault that you didn’t account for being allowed two minutes in every store. Max.”

Pine Tree can be very fun to argue with until he’s not, “I  _ know _ . I just didn’t think our D. D. and More D. session would last for three days.”

“Stupid,” Bill sniffs, in an admittedly pathetic attempt to fan the dying flame of adrenaline inducing anger.

The fire dies, “Yeah. Next store.”

Bill groans in a manner not at all like that of a whining child.

_ Hours _ (maybe days) later the pair are trekking home, weighed down by the several bags of mediocre presents that Bill had little to no hand in picking out. Utter bull shit.

“Hey,” Bill did not pant because he is in  _ peak _ physical shape, “Do you have, uh,  _ Grendas _ ?”

“What?” Pine Tree actually isn’t panting which Bill is  _ very _ bitter about, “Oh. Yeah, I’ve got her chocolate gun in the bag with Pacifica’s plastic croquet set.”

Bill frowned, less than pleased with his grasp of the English language, “No. Shooting Star has Grenda and Candy- People that come over for  _ holidays _ that aren’t related. Do you have people like that to buy presents for?”

Pine Tree fumbled with the bags in his grip, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed and all of those good things, before coughing, “I- Well, I, uh,… I still have to buy you a Kitchenaid.”

Bill does not grin, because that would be very dumb and wouldn’t make a lick of sense, “And hair gel.”

Pine Tree does not smile back, because that would be even stupider, and Bill is getting absolutely  _ repulsed _ by the copious amounts of idiocy in the air this evening.

“And hair gel.”

Bill’s stomach flutters he’s so disgusted.


End file.
